The Golden Rule

by B_25

V – Of Loncreta

Together you trot the length of the grand library once more, this time in total silence. You feel a little overwhelmed by meeting the Princess of the Night, but then again, everything about your life has been overwhelming of late. Indeed, overwhelming is becoming a norm for you, and it's a very far cry from the quiet country life you once led.

You're so distracted by the absurdity of it all that you almost forget about her.

Well, almost. You would never entirely forget Celestia, not as long as you lived. She trots along beside you, occasionally glancing curiously down her long, white muzzle at you, anticipating the questions that she knows you badly want to ask.

With her fond lecture still tingling in your ears, you flip through the multiple issues buzzing in your head, and fire one off at random.

“Luna dislikes me?”

The very act of speaking without being spoken to brings chills down your spine, and you can feel the cogs in your brain turning, grinding against the mentality that you, a lowly guard, were fit to speak to the Princess as freely as you so pleased.

Celestia laughs softly. The melody is like nectar for your ears, and you find yourself smiling a little at it. Your heart beats faster still, as if it wasn't already thudding from your earlier escapade. You quickly chalk it up to Luna setting your frayed nerves on edge.

“Well, I was hoping to save that particular question for later, but I did say you could ask anything you wanted,” Celestia says thoughtfully, her stride unbroken. “I will say that Luna does not like you, and with good reason. But there is a story behind all that. Perhaps a more appropriate time would be after our little sojourn?”

You frown a little, experimenting with your new-found freedom.

“She seemed very angry,” you say, as you pad past the final row of bookshelves and out towards the greenhouse. “I should like to know. I mean, I would never guess why,” you hastily add, “but it bothers me very much that somepony should be upset with me for no reason at all.”

The sun Princess takes a moment to reply.

“Yes, I suppose you are right. You do deserve to know. I can only imagine how fearsome she seems to you.” Your trot comes to a slow as you push through the library double-doors, entering the trickling, glass-ceilinged auditorium that you're slowly learning to call the Greenhouse.

“Luna is not angry,” she says, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she passes through the threshold after you. “She is upset. I think, though, the feelings are one and the same for her, particularly given... our history.”

You blink once or twice, feeling uncertain. “I'm not sure I follow.”

Her rather demure look of thoughtfulness vanishes, again to be replaced by a warm smile. “I would not expect you to,” she says. “The larger part of the history between Luna and I is a story I do not usually pass on to anyone. I will be willing to make an exception for you, of course; but my answer will be rather long, and I find that stories are best told and heard sitting down. That is my only concern.”

“Oh.” You deflate a little bit, feeling your comfort eke ever so slightly away. “The blacksmith. Of course, your majesty. If it is as you wish, it can wait.”

The white princess' perfect brow creases, and her bottom lip juts out petulantly at the tone of your voice.

“Well, if you're going to act like a plucked gryphon about it,” she says, rolling her eyes.

You chuckle quietly for the first time – not around her, or at something she says, but at her, with her, delighted in her cheerful nature.

Just as quickly, the thought of its unnaturalness strikes you as odd, and your smile leaves.

Did you just laugh in front of a Princess?

More importantly, it came unbidden.

It came unbidden.

Good heavens. A smile, after all you've been through? After all the training and drilling to be as firm and steady as granite? You shouldn't even be twitching, let alone grinning so broadly at a Princess, even if she had just given you freedom to do so. Surely, there should have been some adjustment time, you reason, or even a moment where it felt out of place or forced.

But...

Smiling at Celestia feels like the easiest thing in the world. She was so simple and easy to talk to, even though she was entirely impossible to read, even though she was royalty. It was as if all she had in her mind was to make you comfortable.

Like she was in your head.

Something within you shivers. She might have been in your head. You were alright with that, weren't you? She was a Princess, entitled to be or not be wherever she pleased, whenever she pleased, if she pleased. And aside from the inexplicable pangs of guilt you got every time you opened your mouth, being around Celestia was... enjoyable. It was something different, but not bothering, really – she was so warm and beautiful and kind. There wasn't a part of you that wasn't assuaged by her presence.

Your mood continues to swing wildly from happy to self-admonishing. Whatever thoughts you have about favouring a happy attitude around Celestia snake to equally powerful arguments for being stern, and it's spooking you just a little. What's more, you're almost certain that Celestia is responsible for it.

“...Perhaps we could spare fifteen minutes in a quiet place,” Celestia adds, looking around.

Your mind seizes the first conclusion it arrives at. It just as quickly is burned by the impure thought, and drops it instantly – but you feel the heat re-enter your cheeks, and you quickly cough into a hoof to make sure it goes unnoticed.

Hell, you gasp internally. That was never ever your first reaction around a mare, let alone a Princess. You are a stolid, solid guardsman, trained not to react or think that way. You take a deep breath or two, and find there's a slightly unpleasant tightness in your chest. What in the name of all things good is wrong with you? You just hope the whole thing flashed by her unnoticed – and more importantly that she is not in your head.

“Hmm.” The Princess's attention has fallen back on you, and she looks rather meditative. Her eyebrows slant themselves a little, and she gives you a look of concern. “I still make you nervous, don't I?”

Of course it didn't go unnoticed. Does anything ever go unnoticed by her?

“Yes, Princess. I, ah, I think it might take some time to adjust,” you say, not wanting to sound like you'd ignored everything she'd just told you. “It's just...”

You leave the sentence hanging. How would you finish it? Insane to be speaking to you? Liberating to be so free in your presence? So unusual and insane that my mind is swinging to... absurd thoughts?

“I understand completely,” Celestia says quietly. “It is the same for every guard I have ever spoken to in person. I am told I exude a rather intimidating aura of immortality, and that is something I cannot wholly avoid. And yes, the guards do make such a great deal out of the whole affair, but I'm sure things will feel more natural after a time.” She offers you a dulcet smile. “And please, Captain. Call me Celestia.”

Your stomach douses itself in liquid ice. Saints above, it gives you the shivers when she reads you like that.

“Is that an order?” you ask, tentatively.

“Just a request,” she replies fondly. “I think it would help with your dilemma.”

You know better than to ask ‘what dilemma’.

“I think I'd like to hear the story now,” you say, trying to drag her focus away from you.

“Well, alright then,” Celestia replies, turning her gaze back to the sunlit garden. “Just beside the fountain of Knights here, that should do. Here is as private as anywhere else in the castle grounds, and I doubt my lovely and impatient blacksmith will mind too much.”

You trot to the heart of the room and take a seat beside one of the fountains, feeling the grassy floor tickle your hooves. You turn to face Celestia, who, seemingly unbothered, has summoned a long marble bench and is curled up atop of it, with one hoof languidly trailing off into the water of the fountain.

You stare at her, a little stunned. After a moment of making herself comfortable Celestia glances up, and, noticing that you're staring, gives you a pouty look.

"What? You didn't expect me to just lay on the grass, did you?"

You shake your head quickly. It's very easy to forget that, while she appears to be trusting and kind beyond believe, she is also a Princess.

“Alright, then," she says, with a smile. "We'll begin. Tell me, do you know anything about your family tree?”

Slowly, you shake your head. Celestia sighs.

“Well, that makes two of us. You see, I would have liked to look at your family history, but the birth registries of the times that I require were lost during the civil war. It is not a particularly uncommon phenomenon, of course, but...” she tapers off, frowning at you. “You look surprised by my desire to know my guards?”

Indeed you were, though you hadn’t hoped to have made it as visible.

“Well, yes,” you confess, feeling slightly abashed. “A thousand years is a very long time ago, Princess.”

“Celestia,” she corrects you without pause. “And of course, I would very much like to look at your family’s history at that time. It would help me explain quite a lot about you, you see, because you are something strange. You and your ilk were something that Nightmare Moon sought after briefly – first to adopt to her own schemes, and then to get rid of.”

You swallow. You're all ears now.

“Get rid of?”

Celestia sighs, and her expression falls back into blankness, as if she was suddenly lost in thought. She turns her head just a slight, and you notice that her gaze has fallen onto the trickling fountain next to you.

“Yes. And that is a story of many parts, isn’t it?” she questions the cool air of the greenhouse.

You say nothing – but you continue to watch while the Princess composes herself.

“Alright. I will tell you the story of my home,” she says, staring off into the fountain's cool depths. “Have you ever heard of a place called Loncreta?”

You shake your head. She speaks again.

“It was a city in what is now known as the Everfree Forest. It has long since risen and fallen, and the name does not feature in many parts of Equestrian history, so I would not expect you to know of it.”

Again, there is another pause. You consider asking a question to break the awkward silence, but the look on Celestia's face is... strangely neutral. She is not passive or calm, teacherly, content, just indifferent. It reminds you of the look she was wearing in Luna's chamber.

“It was a beautiful place, Loncreta. An ancient city of knowledge and music and life.” She lowers a slender, golden hoof to the surface of the pond, hovering just above the water’s surface. For a half-second it lingers there, before gently pressing through the water’s rippling veneer, allowing the burbling waters to lap at her fetlocks. “And we lived there once,” Celestia says. “Luna and I.”

A little chill descends down your spine at the mention of her royal sister's name, and you suppress the familiar cold in your chest. There is some emotion to Celestia's story that gives you pause, though it does not feel sad. It feels... hollow.

“This was a long time before we... before we fought each other,” Celestia says, continuing to dab at the water, lowering her head over the side of the stone bench to watch the fountain's shimmering surface. “No. It was quite a while before that. It was when we were with our parents. We were quite young and happy in those days. And as you can imagine, we were like any two sisters living in a paradise where the sun always shined, and where the ponies were always happy. We did more than live there. We grew up there. We dreamt of bigger things, we ran and played, we fell in love with strangers there. We learned magic and the arts from our parents there. I spent much of my time in the great library of Loncreta.”

Tap, tap, tap. Celestia’s hoof parts the surface of the fountain. The basin is shallow, and its waters are crystal clear and dotted with stray water-flowers. They accompany Celestia's rippling reflection, the same shade as her coat, and just as beautiful.

"The city was built at the heart of a river delta. Luna always loved the water. It didn't take her long to try and use her magic to walk on it. It was something I could never manage, and it was something she made a habit out of as a result. She’d trot down the rivers and the canals, singing gently. She loved to sing back then, too. Equestrians would crowd the bridges over the water, just to see their beloved Princess. 'Mi amore, mi amore Luna!' they'd cry, and they would throw flowers to her. Luna would pick white flowers from the water and garland them together in her mane. In the end, ponies picked up on it, and they started to only throw lilies. Luna adored that everypony loved her so. Their affection was ever my sister's dearest joy."

The bubbling of the fountains fills a momentary silence, in which Celestia casts an unsure glance your way.

“I am sorry, Captain,” she says. “I do not mean to be to wistful or nostalgic. But I do miss Loncreta.” She smiles weakly at the small white flower bobbing on the water before her. After a moment, you realise it’s a lily. “…And if it was not apparent, the city is no more. I will forever miss it.”

You nod.

“Please,” you say, feeling a little taken aback by Celestia's moment of vulnerability. “If you do not wish to talk...”

“But I do wish, Captain,” she says firmly, cutting you off. “In fact, if there is one thing I must insist on, it is that you hear this tale in full. I want you to know how beautiful this place was. I want you to know that even after my sister and I grew apart, the city was the greatest mingling of the minds this land has ever seen, and it is from those origins of harmony that many advances in technology and magic were made. One particular school would come to light many years later. One that you and many thousands of others alive today were born capable of performing, no less, but has since been forgotten, and has long fallen into disuse.”

You fall silent once again, allowing Celestia a moment to elaborate.

“They call it war magic. Spellbooks labelled it as an art once upon a time, but it was an art born in a different age, where war and conflict were never far from the horizon. In those days, there was beauty in bloodshed, and honour and tradition were the most prized traits of any Equestrian in those days, for there were always unknown enemies to fight. The gryphons, the changelings, the buffalo, the dogs from the earth, and even other ponies, too. The list goes on. Equestria was weak in its earlier years, and we always fought, all of us against common enemies, even though we are all living creatures. We fought to unify, we fought to bring other ponies under the royal demesne, and we fought to protect ourselves.”

Celestia raises her head from the fountain, offering you a wan smile. “I was never one for that school of thought. I know that it is no art. There is no beauty or loyalty to killing and death. In my eyes, peace is truly the path best trodden, and that is part of the reason the stories and magic of Loncreta are best left buried. It is also part of the reason that I try to make so many friends, though that has little to do with your circumstances.”

Celestia breaks from her monologue, but remains entranced on the fountain's cold surface. You take a moment to compose yourself.

“My circumstances?” the words feel hollow leaving your mouth. “That sounds really...”

“Unpleasant.” She finishes with a polite disdain that matches your emotions to a tee.

You blink once. You weren't really going to say that, but it was on your mind.

“I say it because nopony enjoys bloodshed, not truly,” Celestia continues. "The magic of war was a complex mixture of schools, a more aggressive form of conjuring and transmuting and levitation that sought direct manipulation of the earth we stood on, but it is mostly gone. These days, common ponies do not need to protect themselves and their families. That is my job.”

You can relate to that. “And mine,” you add. Celestia nods politely.

“Of course. Now, Loncreta,” she says, beginning anew her story. “Nowhere else was the magic of day and night shared, was the spirit of equinity so alive. In those years before the war, it was such a beautiful place, filled with learning and knowledge and culture... I modelled one of Canterlot's spires on ones I saw in Loncreta,” Celestia raises a hoof and points back towards the library. “Luna's astronomy tower, to be specific...”

She sighs deeply, and lets the other hoof drop back to her side. Something's bothering her. It's a fairly simple thing to see, but you're still adjusting to Celestia being more like a common pony then anything close to an immortal ruler. Before yesterday, you'd have never thought that an equine side to the Princess even existed, so seeing her express simple emotions is a strangely vivid experience.

The Princess speaks again. “Yes, I loved Loncreta. I still do. But I do not go there anymore, not even to visit the ruins. There is far too much... pain for me there.”

She's still smiling. You can see that. But her eyes are closed, and something is wrong, so dreadfully utterly wrong. Her smile hurts. You can see it hurts her, too. Her words are edged with the unspoken suffering of her own immortality, and they cut your heart deeply.

“...Everything changed when our parents died. Luna and I were already beginning to fall out over minor things. We stopped talking for a decade, and, well... to skip ten years of infighting and neglect between us, the war started, Captain.”

The idea that two ponies could simply stop talking to each other for ten years shocks you, but you listen all the same.

“The fighting was bloody everywhere, but it was far, far worse in Loncreta. Suddenly the city was filled with thousands of opposing combatants, some of them loyal to me, some of them loyal to my sister. A city of warriors, Captain. Artisan warriors, every one of them, generals and students and sorcerers all. Married Lunar stallions and solar mares, entire families and neighbourhoods, friends and lovers, all suddenly pitted against themselves. The city was... obviously highly contested territory, and... and I had not prepared adequately.”

Celestia's smile wavers. She opens her eyes to stare into yours, and to your horror, you can see that they are slightly pink.

“The city fell, Captain. It burned, and its inhabitants drowned in the canals and the rivers. Those capable of holding swords did so, and in the suburbs where one force took control, the other side was purged with steel and bladed gems. There was not a thing I could have done, because my sister would have struck directly elsewhere had I left to put an end to it. I was ruined either way, and so I had to choose the lesser of two evils, and I lost everything. I won the day, but I lost my home, I lost Luna, I lost so much, I –”

Celestia stops herself, swallowing. She takes a deep breath, and forces the serene smile back across her face. For a brief, agonising, and private moment, you bear witness to the sadness of Celestia so great that it wrenches at your soul with the unfairness of it all. She does not gaze at you, but through you, and you can't blame her for that. Clearly, she's too busy forcing herself to be strong, even though she lost more than anypony else.

You cannot help but grieve for her in that either - after all, nothing could be crueler. For Celestia to know that her ancient home was being torn apart, but to unable to do anything about it. Over her long life, she must have relived that agonising nightmare a thousand times. You realise that her lament is a glimpse of mortality from a being that you have never thought of as anything less than Princess - kind, wise, and powerful beyond thought. You understand now why she seems to be anywhere where she is needed, and ever-loving to those who have nothing else. Never in the age of Equestrians was so much owed by so many to just a single pony.

There's a long pause. You wait for more words, but she keeps smiling sadly at you. A solitary tear carves a glistening path down one of her fair cheeks, and she turns that cheek away from you, as though she cannot bear to be seen grieving.

“Those faithful followed without a second thought,” she adds quietly, after a small eternity. “Most of them were simply believers, and they sought to defend themselves against the vile enemy. Isn't that always the way? Don't we ponykind justify war for our own means? Yes, Captain, we do indeed, but the conflict between them was not my doing. It was their love for me... for us, that made them do what they did. By the time I made safe the other vulnerabilities and arrived at Loncreta to put an end to the winds of madness, it was already far too late.”

Her words carry a mixture of acceptance and suffering.

“I hope you will forgive me for being emotional,” she says. “I never enjoy speaking of the war. It is a barbarous thing. Please...”

“Of course.” Your voice feels very small and distant.

And for a while, that is all between you and Celestia. She watches the waters of the fountain rippling, and the perfect, white lilies bobbing atop the water, like stars in a clear sky. You watch her and think of how many thousands of times she must have stared at the real sky, the night sky, and been reminded of her sister, and the loss of her home.

By all right, she should hate Luna more than anyone - or anything else. And yet you realise that somewhere within Celestia, there stood the capacity to forgive her sister, despite everything she had done, and everything that she herself had lost.

She speaks after what feels like an age, but her voice has not regained all of its serenity. There is a strain to it that you cannot remember.

“It is well that war is so terrible, Captain, else we should grow too fond of it.”

You nod. Truer words never were spoken.

The sun princess sighs deeply. “But, we must move on. Although it pains me, that is part of a much broader history of Luna and I. Our thoughts turn to you now, Captain. You are descended, I assume, from either a servant of me or my sister during the war.”

What? Immediately your heart grips at your chest, and your eyes widen.

“Yes,” Celestia adds, still not looking upon you. “It is quite possible that your family might have served my sister at one point. The records, as I said, vanished.”

You don't like that at all. Even though she is just Celestia's sister, you don't like Luna, mostly because she frightens the living daylights out of you.

“...I know,” Celestia says wearily. “It's not a pleasant thought for many, though, with the way my sister acts, one can hardly blame them for thinking that way. Now, tell me about your magic, Captain. If you please.”

Eager to pull the conversation away from something that clearly discomforts Celestia, you think about what spells you know.

“It's nothing too complex," you say. “Just basics. Nothing great or powerful, if that's what you were wondering.”

Celestia nods. “It was. I suppose I was hoping vaguely you were prodigious, but sadly, there was one observation my sister was correct in stating. Your magical muscles are mostly underused, and even if you were well studied in magic, you are no Element of Magic.” She looks strangely at you. “That is not a problem, though – I, for one, was not expecting you to be gifted. As for your lack of magical education, well, harnessing potential is my speciality, and I suppose anypony could forgo using their magic comprehensively given time. I take it you never attended a magic school?”

You bite the tiniest part of your inner lip and shake your head. Not on your budget.

Why did that feel shameful to admit?

“Your parents taught you some basics, then?”

A nod.

“Which one of your parents was the teacher?” she asks.

“My mother, mostly.”

“What spells did she teach you? Just basic levitation?”

Another nod.“Firestarting, too,” you add. “I was always very good at starting fires.”

Celestia's eyebrow rises slightly. “...I see. Of course, you were always very good at it. And your father?”

The question hangs dead in the air, and something in the back of your mind cries out, only to be silenced a second later.

“He... he didn't teach me magic.”

Celestia smiles happily for the first time in a long time, mercifully unaware of your thoughts. “Well, we have much to learn, then,” she says, her voice now tinged with keenness and a strangely headteacher-like exuberance. “But first, I think there's something you ought to know about what you simply call 'starting a fire'.”

Her horn glows, and a tiny puff of flame flickers into life before you. You turn your gaze to it, but it does nothing other then waver innocuously, and you look back at Celestia, who is grinning broadly. She leans off her bench a little, hushing her voice conspiratorially.

“It is impossible.”

She then retreats to her bench, looking pleased as punch. Unfortunately, you can't exactly share her enthusiasm.

“...What?” you ask, feeling stupid.

“It is,” Celestia says politely, blinking once, “Impossible. You cannot create fire with magic.”

“But... I can.”

“I know you can,” she says.

"And you can."

"Indeed," she says, and the flame flickers once before doubling in size.

There's an awkward pause.

“...So... so it is possible?” You add meekly. Contradicting Princess Celestia herself feels confounding in more ways then just one.

The Princess nods. “It is possible. I can do it. But it shouldn't be possible, and that is more to the point.”

You stare blankly at the white alicorn for a moment, wondering what to say. You must seem awfully vague and insecure, because she follows up by asking you a question.

“Let me put it to you this way: what exactly is this flame burning to stay lit?”

You open your mouth, and close it again.

“I have no idea,” you say, returning your gaze to the tiny spot of flame between the two of you. “Magic?”

Celestia shakes her head, and nudges the flame with her horn slightly.

“Not quite. Magical energy can create sparks, but it cannot be woven into a stream of light and heat naturally.”

You frown. “So... how does the flame stay lit?”

“Precisely. Where is the fuel for this fire? You have never used it for anything other than lighting fires, so you would never think to ask. But what is it that keeps this flame alive?”

The silence is unbroken while you consider any possible answer, but none is forthcoming.

“You do,” Celestia says. “You can do something that can be replicated with sparks and light, but that no spell has been able to mimic. The conjuration and sustenance of fire.”

"Is that unusual?" you ask, feeling a little awkward.

Celestia affixes you with such an intent stare that you feel like you've made a serious mistake.

"Highly," she says.

You're feeling intrepid, but a little nervous. "And why is that?" you ask.

The sun princess still stares at you.

“I am more then happy to tell you. But fair warning, Captain. It might come as a bit of a shock.”

You look down. You're already seated on the cool grass floor. How bad could it be?

“I don't think I can be more ready,” you say.

The Princess doesn't even hesitate before speaking.

“That is not a steel buckler.”

“...What isn't. Princess?”

“Celestia," she says, without pause. "And, that,” she adds, lifting a golden hoof to point at the floor behind you.

What? You stand up and do a little circle in the grass, turning to face... whatever she was pointing at. There's nothing behind you.

You look back at the Princess, puzzled.

“No, no,” Celestia says, with a tiny sigh and an amused look. “Your mark, Captain.”

You turn your head, glancing back at your mark, staring bemusedly at the little disc of white that you'd taken to be a shield for so long.

“It's a shield?” you say, confusedly.

“So it seems,” she replies. “But in fact, there is more to the mark than meets the eye. It is not a buckler.”

“I don't understand.” Again, the words fall out of your mouth like you haven't even thought about them. But you really don't care too much at that point – you're busy hanging off of her every word.

Celestia's eyes trace over your form, finding their way down to the little shield upon your flank. “I'm very sorry,” she says faintly. “I don't mean to worry you.”

“It's... it's alright,” you say. “Thank you, Princess.”

She does not even notice your slip, but continues to talk.

“If you were a palomino, or perhaps a grey foal, some more scorn would have been shown to your mark. Maybe some more questions would have been asked, and you would have come to my attention earlier. If your coat was any other colour, you might have guessed there was more to it, but you're a white. They are less common in these times, though that was not the case a hundred years ago. Yes, you're a very unusual shade of white.”

“White has shades?”

“Everything has shades,” she replies. “White, green, black, red, blue...” A little ripple of sunlight passes across a length of her flowing mane, and for the briefest moment, it seems to be a solid length of pink. “Every colour has a shade lent to it by light, even those which we call ‘shades’ themselves. You are a very pale white. Paler than most, maybe. But there is a circle of your coat that surrounds your mark that is even paler still, perhaps invisible to the naked eye.”'

“What does it mean, though?”

Celestia continues to speak agonisingly carefully and softly. “Well... when a particular type of cloud floats high enough into the air, ice crystals begin to form within it. They are very thin, and very difficult to see properly, because they are so high above the ground, but pegasi might know one if they saw one. If... if a blanket of these ice crystals should pass over the sun, then the sunlight around it bends into a circular halo, a shimmering wave of white light...” She raises an eyebrow at you.

Something in your chest stops dead as the gravity of what she’s telling you slams into you.

“The sun?” you repeat, feeling your head throb. “It's not a white shield, it's a sun?”

“...In a sense,” Celestia adds quickly, eager to finish before your thoughts run rampant. “I believe it is a phenomenon better known as a nimbus, or an icebow. It is, if you like, the spiritual successor to the rainbow, and so I would think your talents would lie within the realm of light and heat. That is most of the reason why Luna was quite alarmed.”

You dare to take a breath, and your knees feel weak. “Because I can... I can do the same thing you can?”

She smiles at you. “Given time and years of practice, you might be nearly as good.”

Your heart is in your ears again. The spinning sensation reaches its peak, and you feel yourself slowly slipping sideways. With an effort that rivals desperation, you pull yourself upright.

This can't be good for us, says a tiny voice in your head.

Two panic attacks in two days, adds another, deeper voice. We're losing a month of our life for this one. There's only so much the heart can take, you know.

“...Captain?” Celestia asks.

You look at the three Princesses in front of you dumbly.

“Huh?” you say, barely aware that one of them was clearly speaking to you.

“Are you alright?” they ask in unison.

“No,” you reply, quite honestly, feeling the world beginning to teeter to one side.

The three Celestias frown at you as the world spins. “Captain, I – oh!”

With a sudden force, the world comes rushing up to meet you. But before you can thud into the grassy earth, something connects to you, and you halt midway, buoyed by a field of blue magic. You're vaguely aware that it's not your own, and you feel the tiniest thread of woven energy tap into your own magical reservoir.

“No you don't,” Celestia says, quite calmly. “Up you get, now!”

What is she doing? You wonder vaguely, as the thread intwines itself with your horn.

Before your addled, fainting brain can even think to raise the question out loud, something sears your mind so fiercely that you almost black out. Celestia's thread burns you, and a coil of unbelievable pain flashes into your horn. In an instant, you are robbed of thought, blinded in utter agony as the nerves in your brain seize up.

A flood of energy roars through the thread, and something ignites within you. The thread swiftly retract, and the pain recedes, but the burning inside you does not, and at once, you are aware of who you are.

You are more then aware. You are a servant of flame, and when open your eyes, and you can see the aura of Celestia shimmering all around her like a wave of intense heat.

You fall to all fours, but it is not your doing. Your head hangs limp, and you can see your limbs begin to glow with a fierce crimson aura.

At once, you are dominated, practically consumed by the thought of standing. A flush of energy roars through you like a wildfire, burning your chest and mind, and you are vividly aware of your surroundings, even though you understand them not. You hear yourself speak, but the voice is not your own. It feels distant and far away, and you have no idea what you say, only that there is an unsatisfied, incredible urge to protect Celestia.

The Princess says something. The heatwave around her shimmers and grows, encompassing you, but you hardly notice. You are lost. The feeling of being dizzy and subservient and nervous vanishes so quickly that they might never have existed. But you don't think that. It doesn't matter if they did. The only thing that matters in the world is the dull, burning roar in your head that demands to be heard.

Where... the moon. I must burn... I must... burn.

“Breathe, Captain. Just breathe.” a calm voice floats into your mind, as clear as a bell. Your ears flit and turn, searching for the source of a foreign presence.

I am the last. I must protect her.

“Just relax, Captain.” insists the Princess's gentle voice. “You are safe. There is no danger. Relax... relax.”

This last word penetrates your consciousness like a blade. With a sucking gasp, you steal a breath and nourish your starved mind. Your eyes re-focus. The gentle trickle of the fountains fills your ears as you regain consciousness. The roar turns into a rumble, and a wreath of smoke emerges from your mouth and nose, and a second later it is followed by a tiny buffet of orange flame.

With a mighty, crackling whoosh, the flame expands and flowers, bursting from you like a fusillade of dragons, barrelling, and billowing as it expands out into the atrium. With it passes the roaring noise and the burning sensation, and you can feel yourself regaining some feeling in your hooves as the last vestiges of flame escape your lungs.

Immediately you come back to earth, and you are aware that you're splayed on your stomach, breathing heavily. Silvery smoke billows from your nose, and you cough and choke trying to force it all out of your lungs and throat.

When you have, you take in your surroundings blearily. And what you see could not terrify you less.

The fountain is charred in front of you. Like a roaring twister of dragon's breath, the flame has seared the precious white marble an ashen black. A multitude of burned lillies splay away from you on the fountain's surface in a cone pattern, and some of them are still smouldering gently. The grass beneath your hooves is dry, and dyed a faded yellow from the sheer heat.

You stare, dumbfounded for a moment or two, before a hoof on your shoulder makes you look up.

It's her again. And she's positively giggling with delight.

“Well!” she says, fanning a hoof before her to ward away the smoke, clearly struggling not to laugh. “That introduction was... a bit rougher then I would have liked.” She ponders the singed water lillies for a few seconds before turning to you. “Are you, er... are you quite alright?”

You take another few gulps of air, still feeling the tingle of heat in your throat and lungs.

“What did I...” you stare down at your hooves again, only to find them deprived of the aura you had seen moments before. You reach up to your chest, trying to pat the burning sensation away from your chest. “What was that?”

“It was a rather severe reaction to a small portion of my magic,” Celestia says, the tiniest bit regretful. “I didn't exactly want you going dark on me, so I thought it might have been a good time to awaken your rather dormant power.” She coughs a little more. “So much smoke...”

You look up at her, astonished. She's very tall at the best of times, least of all when you're nearly spread-eagled in front of her. You get to your hooves, and she raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you think it was better than passing out in front of me?” she asks, quizzically.

You bite your lip. “Um...”

“Rhetorical question, Captain,” she adds, giving you a smile that tries to cajole some warmth back into your extremities. “Now, ignoring the smoke, how do you feel?”

Quickly, you take a mental recap of all your faculties.

Left legs? Right legs? Tail still attached?

“Well, I'm... I'm alright,” you say, feeling cautious, but energetic.

The Princess gives you a concerned look. “Your momentary pain aside, would I be wrong in saying you feel better than before?”

“I feel... I feel great,” you say truthfully.

You feel somehow empowered by whatever Celestia has done to you. Some barrier has been broken, or some connection has been established between you and her. Maybe she's just growing on you more and more.

“What did you do to me?”

“I kindled the bonfire of your magic,” she replies, smiling happily at you. “Such things are very easily achieved with my knowledge of the magic. It was like a firepit full of fuel, but there was no flame present. Just heat. All it took was a few sparks, but I think I might have added a little too much on my end.” Her smile fades to a sheepish one. “I apologise for that.”

You blink once or twice, and breathe out again, savouring the coolness in your throat and lungs.

It's alright, isn't it? Asks one voice in your head.

No idea, we're breathing fire now, says the deeper voice. We're probably going crazy.

You tell them both to shut up, and you look at Celestia before nodding resolutely. It was alright. Celestia seems visibly relieved when she speaks again.

“...Long ago, elder scholars and mages would have called our little exchange just now 'Pyromancy'. I prefer to use my own word for it, but perhaps you are more familiar with this term for your gift?”

You haven't heard of pyromancy before, and you shake your head. You're about to say something of the sort when what exactly your gift is pre-occupies you once more.

“Sweet heavens, it's a sun...” you say, staring back at your mark.

“Indeed,” Celestia replies. “You are a furtive flame drawn to the sun, and that is why Luna feels so horrifically uneasy around you.”

“But... why?... I don't...” You can hardly string a few words together at the moment, let alone a complete sentence, but you have so much to say.

“If you recall, I said before that she sought to get rid of your kind,” Celestia adds, relieving you of your choice. “Nightmare Moon had all such foals taken from their parents. In the beginning, she imagined that she had a cause for their ability to sharpen and give shape to natural moonlight. But without fail, they turned their back to the moonlight, and she did not want them finding any love for me or my sun.”

Oh. Your squirming stomach disappears, to be replaced by an empty vacuum within.

“She killed them?”

Celestia winces and lets out a shuddering breath, and when she opens her eyes, the grey sadness has returned to her in full.

“Must you ask?” she whispers, her voice bleeding hurt.

You bite your lip again, feeling incredibly guilty.

“I’m sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'm just a little...” you wave a hoof to try and emphasize the words that won't come.

“I forgive you, of course,” Celestia replies. “But there, you have the truth of the matter. To answer the question of why my sister dislikes you, do you now see why my little sister might feel... apprehensive about a unicorn whose mark falls so snugly under my wing?”

“It must - I mean, I must... bring back some unhappy memories,” you say, feeling very awkward and blameable.

“Ones of Loncreta, I have no doubt,” Celestia replies. “And memories of that place are things neither of us want to dwell on. Not to mention, she suffers through enough guilt already for her deeds – she is all too aware of the pain she has caused her sister, even moreso because she did it with her own four hooves. She has also brought great pain upon herself in the process. It seems that many ponies would forget that the Nightmare destroyed more that Luna loved than I did, but... they would much prefer to think of her as 'evil'.”

You nod silently. You have nothing to add to that, and it is all completely true.

“As a result,” she continues, “Luna barely forgives herself. Her narrow faith in her own equinity is only bound by my promise that I will continue to be her sister until the end of days. Ponies fear her and loathe her. She only bites back in kind, and it is not easy for her to be a bright star when everypony around her feels darkened by her presence.”

Then, Celestia does something that surprises you. She closes her eyes and lowers her great, maned head.

“I’m sure her wounds will heal, but it will take many, many moons. So please. Please, just for now. In exchange for my power, I beg that you forgive my sister her behaviour. I said before that the feelings of anger and sadness were one and the same for Luna, and I hope you will remember this, and treat her kindly.”

Celestia begging you for something strikes you deeply, and you bow low.

“I'll do my best,” you say quietly. You need swear no vow on this promise. Like a chorus of broken angels, Celestia's lament is not something you'd ever disregard.

Celestia's wings splay themselves slightly, and she closes her eyes, turning her head up and away in a display of rejection and regality.

“Perhaps, Captain. But your promise will not stop the fact that she loathes the very idea of you. You were entitled to know why, and you asked; and now you know. What will happen is this; you will learn the art of pyromancy. For I am the sun, and she is the moon, and the two are destined to remain independent. Your mark is for pyromancy, and pyromancy is of my own design. Therefore, you will be my protector because I will it, and I will nourish you in kind because I wish it. I am the mistress of the flame, the lady of fire and light, and you are my adherent, my noble servant.”

You take a little, shivering breath at the sight. She has resumed her radiance as a queen, and you are suddenly aware of her aura of immortality. Her wingfeathers seem to shimmer in the sunlight that glimmers in through the greenhouse’s curved glass roof.

Celestia’s eyes sneak open. Her expression unfaltering from its noble pose, she gives you a sly wink.

“A little too much pomp, you think?”

And just like that, she's back to her gracious, mortal, cheerful self again.

Truth betold, you saw a glimmer of the same bewitching power and beauty that was Celestia in her element, perched atop her throne. The wink takes you totally by surprise, and holds your heart in a tight grip.

“Yes, hmm. A little too much,” she says, frowning at your wide-eyed expression as she settles back to her leisurely self. Her wings fold themselves against her sides. “Now, enough talk! We need to get to see my good friend. He will see to your barding, if not a good sword. And possibly the mason, too,” she adds, giving the fountain a puzzled look. “I think I shall need to have this all cleaned up. My, my, such potency...”

She begins to descend from the bench, stretching out her shoulders and magnificent as she does so. You’re a little too tense to do the same just now, but you quickly kick your legs back into life.

“Are there... others like me?” you say, as you clamber to your hooves.

Celestia, halfway through stretching out a leg, pauses, looking somewhat surprised.

“...There have been, in the past,” she says slowly. “But no. Other than your mother, there is only one like you alive today, and that is me.”

Your eyes widen. Your mother, too?

“How did you know that?”

Celestia raises an eyebrow. “Why, you told me that she too could cast fire. But honestly, that came as no surprise to me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Suddenly, the noble Princesses' beautiful face cracks into a grin, and a pealing giggle breaks the air, lifting your spirits.

“Oh, you remind me of dearer times, Captain,” she says, smiling at you fondly. “Or more innocent times, perhaps. You mentioned you were capable of lighting a fire with your pyromancy, correct?”

You nod.

“That is my craft,” she said. “I call it 'hearthfire'. It is an old spell, one of oldest, I think. My very own design, that you and your ancestors have been casting for many years.”

Hearthfire. You like the sound of that. “Is that the name for it, then?” you ask, after a pause.

“It is,” Celestia replies. “In the war, fires were lit to mark signals from town to town to warn ponies to flee. But they were also beacons of courage and hope for the troops, and so in that sense they were hearthfires, fires that warmed the soul and heart like the ones they had at home. They were comforting to most, but I discovered a more practical element to the spell that allowed my generals to communicate over long distances through the flames.”

Your eyes widen.

“So does that mean that–” you cut yourself off, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes, yes,” Celestia laughs. “It means that for a very long time now, I have been aware of your presence, and I have been seeking you. Like a signal-beacon in the far-off hills, I would catch a thought from somepony every year or so, and so I sought your mother, and your grandparents, and their parents too. Ever since one of your ancestors first learned and cast the spell through paths of knowledge unknown to me, I have known that there was a vein of pyromancers left alive, and I sought them. But they did not communicate with me as my generals had, and their identities have been obscured to me. It is very likely that they only thought of the spell as rather plain, and never treated it as anything different.”

You swallow your disbelief. “H-how?” you stammer. “How does my mother know this spell?

“...Where these ponies learned it, alas, I cannot say,” Celestia replies. “Perhaps your mother learned it from her mother before her, just as you did. If we were to follow the path of your pyromancy, I am sure we would come back to the first pony who had mastered it. As for how he or she learnt it, it may have been an ancient tome or spellbook that carried the knowledge of the spell between its pages. Perhaps it came from somepony's journal or diary from the wartime.” She grins excitedly at you. “But that is beside the point. You are here, and I am delighted! I thought I would never find you, you see.”

“But you did?”

Celestia beams at you. “By the sheerest coincidence only,” she replies. “You see, there is a second 'echo' spell that is required to speak to me. Without using the echo spell and the intent to speak, nopony can hear the user, and all I receive are stray thoughts.” She chuckles to herself. “So you see, I relied on what you and your mother would inadvertently think about. Your mother was not one for fire-gazing, but you were, and I thought long on where you might be, but the clues were too vague.”

You blink. “But I've been casting the Hearthfire spell all my life. So has my mother, and so have all the pyromancers before them.”

The Princesses' eyes twinkle with joviality. “Perhaps. But even so, I could not find you. I can only sense that the spell has been cast. Where exactly the fire is I cannot say, and without you taking a moment to think while staring into the fire, I would not learn anything from it. In fact, until you happened to light a mess hall fire with your horn one day while thinking about Shining Armour, I had no idea who you might even be. It has taken me twenty-three years to find you without knowing who you are, and only by pure chance was I able to do so.”

“So... have you been reading my mind since I was a foal?” You ask quietly, feeling afraid.

She seems to sense your apprehension. “Well, yes and no. You have never had a will to talk to me, so no, I have not 'read your mind'. But occasionally, as a foal, you would fall asleep before the fire, and I would see brief snatches of a very simple life in the countryside.” Her gentle smile softens, falling to something close to motherly, and immediately you feel warm to core once more. “I know intermittent details. For one, I knew you were a very sweet little foal with a white coat.”

Uncomfortable wouldn't the right word for how you feel right now. Your life was private. You didn't like the idea that the Princess suddenly knew too much about you. It was an absurd thought, because she was a Princess, for heaven's sake, but it was upsetting at any rate.

“...How much do you know?” you ask, pawing at the grass abashedly and staring at the burned fountain.

“Please, do not be worried.” she adds serenely. “I know only the barest of details about you, and they are not private. I only know them because you have felt comfortable sharing the thoughts with yourself. I know that you have always wished to be a royal guard. I know it is in your heart to do so. I know that you love your home very much – and it is with this knowledge in mind that I have asked you to be my sworn servant. I know what your home and family mean to you, and yet it is still my wish that you learn the secrets of a dead brand of magic.”

You feel relieved that Celestia does not know everything about you, but you're still unsure all the same.

“What about my promotion?” You ask. “Was that your doing?”

“Again, in a sense,” she replies calmly. “Before the war, I had a guiding hoof in the lives of every pyromancer. But not since the war have I been able to find another. You ask me if I picked you out for your talents, and yes – I will not lie to you, that is why you are here. But though I risk that my art might perish in your lifetime, I would have accepted your choice to stay away, had you chosen it.”

“But what about me?” you say, still feeling slightly violated.

“What about you would you like to know?” Celestia responds, curiously.

You swallow. “What if I – I mean, what if your pyromancers wanted to do something else?”

“Then they could have,” Celestia replies evenly. “Again, I may only wish upon it dearly, and at the end of the day, the choice of many pyromancers was to serve me.” she pauses for a moment. “I only know that you are a pyromancer at heart. I have known this for many years, and I did not force it upon you or anypony else, if that's what you're wondering.”

“...It was,” you say quietly, knowing better than to be dishonest. The Princess shakes her head.

“No, no. I could, of course, but that would defeat the purpose of teaching a pony. Thankfully, the opportunity to guard me and to guide me has rarely been turned away,” she says, with a gentle smile. “Where it has been passed up – and I assure you it has through the ages – I have made sure that the pony found peace elsewhere. So ultimately, Captain, I only push the opportunity. When it arises, the choice is all yours.”

And with that, she turns and departs the still-smoldering fountain, leaving you once again to follow after her, feeling a little less confused, and a little more content.